Less Glaring, More Fun
by stray.alchemist
Summary: "The god emptied his glass, swinging aside on his chair. 'Another,' he requested in a tone so polite it could augur only trouble, all smiling, a second before he let the immensely expensive cut crystal slip from his fingers and shatter to thousands of pieces on the floor." Tony Stark and Loki have a business talk a.k.a. party. Drunken, slashy silliness ensues.


Hello everyone, and welcome to my first attempt at crackfic - this one began with a particular line from "Gods of New York" in which Tony regrets that his business talk with Loki is rather serious. Here's a crazy spinoff which is not serious at all and ends unexpectedly for both parties (I suppose). You might want to read "Gods..." first to know what the proof and the reenactment spear are, but I did my best to make sure you could enjoy this fic without that knowledge. Thanks for stopping by!

* * *

_Tony gave another shrug, this one solely to relieve the sudden uneasiness. He had expected less glaring, more fun. Or at least more opportunities to make witty retorts._

* * *

'Convince me,' Stark said, for the fifth time this evening. 'Give me a proof.' He knew quite well that at this stage of the party - business meeting, that is - he would probably see the proof doubled, blurred and prettier than in reality, but he passed over that in silence.  
The god emptied his glass, swinging aside on his chair.  
'Another,' he requested in a tone so polite it could augur only trouble, all smiling, a second before he let the immensely expensive cut crystal slip from his fingers and shatter to thousands of pieces on the floor.

Tony sighed.  
'Is demolishing my belongings your revenge, or something? How mature of you.'  
'Asgardian customs,' Loki explained. 'You might reconsider inviting my brother to your feasts.'  
'I would also reconsider inviting you, but the thing is, you just pop up whenever you want and invite yourself,' the engineer pointed out, pouring scotch generously for both of them. 'And you know what? It never ends well for you. Do you think it's fun? Or do you just fail to see the pattern?'  
His guest's eyes narrowed dangerously.  
'What?' Tony looked unimpressed. 'Are you going to throw me out of the window for naming your bad habits? What is this throwing out of the window thing, by the way? Typical Asgardian punishment for poor jokes and weak puns?' He gave an innocent smile. 'Or, quite the contrary, for jokes that are too true to be actually funny?'  
'What makes you think your groundless remarks could bother me?' Loki decided to focus on his sixth - seventh, probably - drink, as if such display of disdain could stop the rapid stream of snark. Unavailing hope, since the stream was alcohol-fueled, due to hitherto experience.  
Tony's smile turned into a grin, one of those that could light the face of a very happy predator, approaching his victim.  
'That's another thing I can't just take for granted. Scientific method requires proofs.'  
The Asgardian said nothing, which elicited a teasing smile equally wide to this which would be caused by any comment. Apparently there was nothing to protect him against Stark's sharp sense of humor.  
'Touched a nerve, did I.' Tony flashed another grin. 'Does the quality of weapon have anything to do with this?' He gave a sidelong, pointed look at the spear, which now was lying on the floor in all its misery, rust and lack of adornments its owner loved so. 'Well, at least this one is longer than the scepter,' he added after a few seconds of consideration.  
'You must be out of your mind,' said the god in a tone meant to signify utter boredom.  
From what he could tell, his host took it as a compliment.  
'I'm just unwinding, my dear.'  
The last words seemed to pass unnoticed in clicks of glass on the table, which was kind of disappointing.  
'Where did you even get it?' Stark jostled the spear with his foot. 'Asgardian second-hand?'  
'I took it from my enemy's cold hands while echoes still repeated his cry for mercy.' The reply was already slightly indistinct, far from expected clear pronounciation, which ruined the intended lofty effect so utterly that to point it out would be pure cruelty. The god blinked, mildly surprised by this muffled sound of his own voice.  
'You're getting drunk,' Tony explained, handing him another drink.  
'I recognize the state of my inebriation,' Loki snapped, but took the offered glass. 'What I don't understand is how one could become drunk after... this.'  
'See, my species excels at something.'  
The Asgardian raised one brow dubiously.  
'Conjuring up highly toxic, unpalatable substances?'  
'I didn't force you to have those countless drinks,' noticed the engineer with a bright smile, pointing at his guest, caught red-handed, raising his glass to his lips.  
'This doesn't matter.' According to traces of faint scarlet, spreading over god's cheeks, it could matter. As if drinking too much and losing control during a party never happened to him, which Tony seriously doubted.

'None the less,' Loki continued in a much softer voice, 'You were asking for a proof.'  
'Well, yeah.' Stark looked around. 'So what do you want to prove?'  
'Weren't you the one who questioned my sincerity?'  
Tony stared at the Asgardian for a few silent seconds. Then, after exhausting mental acrobatics, necessary to acknowledge that the Liesmith was absolutely serious, he bent over the table in an uncontrollable spasm of laughter.  
'This is most ridiculous,' said Loki, his voice heavy with resentment.  
'Well, it's not that _you_ remember what was this very important thing you wanted to prove!'  
'So much for an alliance,' the god spoke as he put his glass down. Where Tony expected angry yelling, there was barely audible, disappointed, trembling whisper. 'All is lost.'  
Loki stood up and stretched the coat-tails, surely preparing to leave. He looked quite miserable and sulking, with his eyes fixed somewhere low. He even forgot his horrid reenactment spear.

'But.' He turned to Tony suddenly. 'There is something else I can prove.'  
Before the genius could react, he was grabbed by his shirt and neck and drawn closer, long fingers almost choking him. In thoughts, he cursed his idiocy and recklessness, before remarking that heavy drinking with an enemy from outer space could actually make a rather cool death. It was going to be the only topic discussed in the press in the following weeks; he already regretted not being able to see it happening.

It wasn't going to happen anyway.

Unexpectedly, the deadly grip became tender, one hand slipped from the throat to the arc reactor, and Tony was pulled even closer in a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of scotch and something else, some godly quality - this was the only explanation that made sense at this moment, for he discovered himself responding with equal committment and a certain kind of hunger. But just as he clutched his fist around strands of Loki's hair, the god moved his head away, his breath louder and scarlet on his cheeks not as faint as it was.

'That's very far from my idea of proof,' Tony scrutinized with the most serious look he could assume while tracing god's lips with his finger. 'More like a first draft. Or a rough hypothesis.' He gave a scowl that soon turned to a badly concealed, victorious grin. 'You don't know much about scientific method, do you?' The Asgardian was surprised enough to let the mortal abate the distance between them to an inch. He breathed in Tony's part sigh, part laughter. 'Let me show you some science.'


End file.
